Where the Path Winds Backwards
by Sulley Wake
Summary: Between forgotten legends of magic and tribal spirits from Mistofelees' nocturnal companion, and the warnings of the village lunatic, the tuxedo tom is more than curious to find out just what lays in the forests on the northern face of the mountain, where the sky is golden, his magic is common, and the path winds backwards.


**A/N: Hello, all! I've grown on his website, known as **_**Munkustrap18 **_**since 2009****, but I felt that I've sort of outgrown the juvenile roots of the account, that is, not saying that I don't like any of the stories, I hope to rewrite a few of them, but I felt like it was time for a change. So, here I am under a new PenName! This story is an adaption of an original piece I'm working on that will be, as of now, performed through music in a concept album, rather than a written story, but I wanted a clearer layout of the story, and what better place to do it? So, without further ado, I present…**

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**~ "Where the Path Winds Backwards" ~**

"I told you already, what's done is done!"

The words spat viciously out of the leader's snarling maw, making the calico opposite him flinch the slightest bit. Regaining his domineering pride, Mungojerrie flared up and shot back, "There's got to be _something _we can do, we've been one with this place since _all _were tribal!"

The leader, a grey tabby, smirked darkly, the pale light of the moon ghosting the dangerously green irises that bored into his inferior's pale brown. His voice became a low growl, ominous over the otherwise flinching calico,

"You weren't here for the worst of it, Pawn," he spat the last word, earning a growl from his inferior, "But if there were any other option I could take to protect my home, I would be the one to know."

"Are you sure there-"  
"WOULDN'T I?"

The enormous grey was in Mungojerrie's face before the calico had time to strike back, heated and visceral. The lower rank stared back at his superior with rage before they both calmed in silent understanding. After several long, silent moments, Mungojerrie sighed darkly and stared at the dirt matting his paws below, "You would, Sir… I just don't want to believe it."

Munkustrap also sighed, tiredly rubbing his darkened eyes with the back of his earthy paws, "I wouldn't either… But it's too dangerous to be in denial at this point. The worst case scenario is proving to be more likely than any of us, even the elders, thought."

Looking down at his own front paws, Munkustrap looked back up at his silent companion, the cold light of stars casting a glow on his poly-colored face. He sighed a second time in exhaustion, stepping over to the edge of the dark lake, and breaking the calm water with vibrant rings and droplets as he dipped his muzzle down and lapped at the fresh water. As he did, he sensed the calico's movements, slinking cautiously to his side, and sitting calmly in front of the edge of the water.

"What's the plan going to be?"

The superior leaned back up from the dark water, wiping his wet muzzle with the back of his paw and looking up at the starlit sky, "Something drastic… We're going to need the elders eventually."

Mungojerrie widened his eyes, surprised at the thought of initiating _anyone _into their tribe. He hadn't witnessed anything like it in any of the long, ageless years he'd been around for. But, with disappearances growing more and more common on the Southern side of the mountain face, there was something that needed to be done on the Northern side. The two feral cats knew that someone else was inhabiting their forest, and it was dependent on villagers it could only reach with desperate measures.  
The calico nodded, closing his eyes and taking in the familiar sounds of crickets and night birds, "And we're sure the boy has roots with us."

"Beyond sure," Munkustrap nodded, eyes sharp on the other side of the lake, where a tall cluster of trees seemed to mirror the ones close behind the two cats, "He has magical ability past anything I've ever seen for someone so young and untrained."

He nodded more firmly and chuckled, "Oh yes, this tom is different. He wasn't born of any villager, that's for damn sure. And we need him before the leeches convince him similarly for all the wrong reasons."

"The Dark Ones know about the boy's sorcery?"  
"I'm sure of it. Their sacrifice rate has become more frequent as the boy's ability increases."

The calico nodded silently, opening his eyes and looking up at the tabby, whose smile had faded into a dark look of monotony, staring out over the calm lake and swimming in his thoughts and concerns, unfazed by the ones in his inferiors own head. The abeyance of listening to a calm night was damaging to the alert perception of both cats, but rest was necessary after such a night of uncertainty.

Munkustrap stood up and began to walk back into the thick woods, not giving his inferior a second look, "We'll discuss matters in the morning.

Mountains refrained unity between the two valleys for as long as anybody on the inhabited side could remember. Civilized villagers went among their daily lives and lifelong trades, passed down to them through generations. Fishers, bakers, merchants, millers, and blacksmiths were common in Cuneo, the village on the Southern side. Devereau had little more than a couple hundred cats, a relatively large number considering the remoteness of the village, being far from any bustling city, and surrounded by a half-circle of treacherous hills and mountains.

"Do you ever wonder what's behind them?"

Tumblebrutus looked up from the worn book he was reading, and over to the tuxedo kit who had spoken beside him. The two youths were perches upon a log, facing 45 degrees away from a lowering, orange sun setting on the western side of the village, casting a thick glare between the birch trees that looked to imprison it, bars shadowing across the patches of grass and dirt. Mistofelees was looking up at the peak of the tallest of the great, golden cliffs of mountains that were just visible over the large bush of treetops.

"Not..really," admitted Tumblebrutus with a shrug, setting the worn book beside him on the log, face down and cracking his knuckles, tired from a long day learning the trade of sailing from his father. Mistofelees, however, was restless in a more jittery way than the drowsy calico. He was to learn the trade of baking from his own father, which wasn't nearly as strenuous or physical as the other toms' jobs, much to his constant ridicule during school.

In Tumblebrutus' far from enthusiastic reply, Mistofelees shook his head and looked over at his friend, who was now casting his own gaze out towards the tall mountains, a patch of dark amber sunlight brightening the top half of his face as he tried to think of an answer. Tumblebrutus couldn't answer it honestly, he had never been told what lay behind the mountain, always assuming it was nothing but desolation, and feral animals. He simply shook his head, and looked back at Mistofelees, "What do you think?"

"I've always been kind of curious," reasoned the tux, "I mean, we never hear of any village close up North, do we?"

The calico shook his head in agreement, not too sure what Mistofelees was getting on about, but decided not to question his thoughts,

"Yeah, we don't, I guess… Maybe there's a monster back there who's been kidnapping everyone."

Tumblebrutus chuckled, amused at his slightly dark and untimely joke, before picking his book back up and continuing the chapter he left off on, while Mistofelees blinked, re-analyzing his friend's words in genuine consideration. What if there was something behind the mountain taking all the missing cats from the village?

"There's something behind the mountain, alright."

Mistofelees and Tumblebrutus whipped around, startled; over their shoulder stood Macavity, a farmer who lived behind somewhere in the Birch forest that neither of the kits had bothered to look for, even if they _would have _been allowed to. There were several "Private Property – No Trespassing" and "DANGER- KEEP AWAY" signs crudely hammered into the white bark of the Birch trees that bordered a dirt trail. A trail that would eventually lead to the farmer's house, the two kits assumed.

"Like what?" Mistofelees questioned quietly, giving the tall ginger tom a curious look.

Macavity smiled darkly and repositioned the two bags of compost over his strong shoulder, before answering with a dark smile, and a whisper, "Evolved creatures sent from the depths of Hell, from the Devil himself."

He continued after a small chuckle, "They eat all my livestock, ruin my crops, and stop the rain; dirty bastards'll get-"

"Excuse me, Macavity, I'm gonna have to ask you to stop ranting your _conspiracy theories_-"  
"Conspiracy Theories my ass, Sheriff, these boys ought to know the truth about those God damn-"  
"_That is enough_, Macavity."

The ginger tom stopped abruptly, giving Alonzo, the head of Police who had walked up to end any suspicious activity, the dirtiest of looks. The calico narrowed his own eyes and jerked his head threateningly towards the dirt road. Macavity growled and look down at the very surprised and scared looking kits,

"They'll find out eventually, Lonz."

With that, he strode down the dirt road and disappeared among the birch trees toward the house everyone in the village knew of, but had never seen. The two tom-kits nervously stood from the log, Tumblebrutus putting his book back into his school bag and scratching the scruff of his neck before following Mistofelees and Alonzo away from the dusty field and back down the dirt road into the village. Alonzo took a look back to the edge of the birch forest,

"There's somethin' off about that guy."

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**Reviews are widely appreciated! Cheers, and Good Day/Night. **

**-Sulley Wake**


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